Sur Tes Pas

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER TEMPLE

At the young age of sixty-four years, Sor-Jan Xantha had accomplished much that others merely dream of.

As a general in the Grand Army of the Galactic Republic, he had faced the droid armies of the Separatists at Duro, Corellia, and at Drall. Even before then, as a Jedi at Deneba and again at Manaan, he'd earned the recognition of his peers -- if not their respect. The Jedi Council of the Old Republic had nearly voted to expel him because of what he was, and still he'd received a commission as a Jedi Knight because of who he was. The Republic Judicial Forces had called him the Hero of the Line for his actions during the Yinchorri Uprising. As a Jedi Consular, he had negotiated peace agreements between intractable enemies. As an archaeologist, he had preserved histories lost or forgotten.

But one thing that the Anzat did not do was suffer fools lightly.

...even if they were Gungans he'd hired himself.

The top of the desk rattled as the youngling's hands slammed down. Loub papers and disks spilled over the edges onto the floor, as the small boy rose from out of his seat so that his face was mere inches from the hologram in front of him. "What do you mean, 'we're investing in the Galactic Republic'?" the boy asked, pointedly. Though his manner of voice was calm, the tone held a certain edge that betrayed his irritation. Cerulean blue eyes flashed with an unseasoned anger to which he would never admit.

A casual wave of one hand sent still more papers flying. Flittering, dancing in the air as the boy gestured wildly as he continued without waiting for answer. "We're just going to forget about Roche?" the young Jedi demanded. "We're just going to forget about the Supreme Chancellor's little stunt? Is our corporate memory REALLY that short-sighted?"

He'd raised his voice.

Catching himself, the small Anzat held his tongue. Pausing to take a breath that was perhaps not even necessary for him, the young vampire continued to stand as he seethed toward the false color image of the Gungan hovering over his desk -- daring him to respond. Waiting for him to answer, and already certain that he didn't want to hear any of it.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

THE PLANET
D R A L L
THE CORELLIA DIGITAL BUILDING

All things being equal, this conversation was actually going better than Jon had anticipated.

Fingers steepled in front of his snout, the red-hued Gungan lounged back in his chair as he weathered the storm and waited for the boy to either exhaust himself or pause to take a breath. Even when he did, Jon remained quiet for a moment or two longer, primarily for effect more than patience. Sor-Jan Xantha was a thinker. Jon had to be strategic -- not only about what he said but also how he delivered it.

"If yousa is finished..." the Gungan murmured quietly, extending out both hands as if in invitation for the boy to either continue or permit him to speak.

This was a game of verbal sabaac. The trick was getting the Jedi to reveal his card-chips. Lay everything on the table. Then Jon could systematically work through debunking the boy's points, countering his logic.

But the most potent weapon of all, forcing the boy to face his own bias toward the Republic. And then use that to get him to back down.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER TEMPLE

Finished?

Was he finished? Really? One eyebrow jumped slightly, as the boy caught the tone and immediately felt as though the Gungan were talking to him as one would a child. Just who the bloody hell did this overgrown swamp frog think that he was talking to? They were not friends. Sor-Jan was the gods damned CEO of the company. A company he'd brought back from the brink of bankruptcy, and not because of Jon Jon Nemo. The Gungan was a relatively new addition to the company. A necessary evil because of the vast amount of aurodium they'd come into possession of by virtue of the Silver Sanctum Coalition and Sasori Research.

"No, I'm not finished," the boy barked shortly in reply.

Senators speaking about freedom, while whittling away at democracy until civil liberties became treason. Military commanders who viewed their orders absent any moral compass, using self-reasoned logic and cherry-picking the law of war until it said that the ends justified the means. And Jedi who followed blindly the parts laid out for them by politician and soldier both.

Once upon a time, he'd been prepared to give his life for the Republic and would save said of it that it was a life well lived.

Now, he could never forgive them for the death of his padawan. His friend.

"How many capital planets has the Republic had in the last year? The last month?" the boy tossed back freely. "You think that's a stable investment?"

There. That was probably a more reasoned approach to what the boy wanted to say. Which was, kark the Republic.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

THE PLANET
D R A L L
THE CORELLIA DIGITAL BUILDING

"I'm not interested in stable investments, and neither are your shareholders," the Gungan tossed back readily.

Tit for tat. It seemed that the cards were dealt, and so now it was Jon's turn to go on the offensive. "Investment capital and growth potential," Jon stated, holding up one hand as he made the second point. "Those were the reasons we selected Denon as our target market."

Corellia Digital had been trying to get into Denon for months. Originally through contacts with Lady [member="Sankt Yora"] and Off World Exports, but those negotiations had stalled. But, now, the Galactic Republic was here. And there was a devil that Jon Nemo knew. That Jon's interest in the Republic and the corporate interest in Denon just happened to align at the moment was circumstance and luck.

But so much about investing was circumstance and luck, and it was a fool who let such opportunities for investment to pass them by.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER TEMPLE

"Yes, and your suggestion of Druckenwell has certainly benefited from the collapse of the Techno Union."

All right, that was catty and rather beneath the dignitas of a Jedi, much less a Jedi Consular. Still, it wasn't far off the mark. And feth if it didn't feel good saying it aloud as opposed to keeping the thought to himself.

Be that as it may, it seemed that this conversation was rapidly approaching an impasse. The unstoppable force of Jon's calculations against the immovable object that was Sor-Jan's feelings toward the Republic. "Kark Denon," the boy said finally, after a moment of silence between the two. He meant it, too. Kark Denon. Kark the senator from Denon, whoever the bloody hell that was. Kark the junior representative from Denon. Kark the... Supreme Chancellor. Prime Minister. Grand High Poobah, or whatever else the leader of the Republic was calling themselves now.

What kind of name was [member="Jack Sparrow"] anyway? It sounded like something a pirate would style himself out in the fringe space.

Taking a breath, and at least feigning that he might actually be calming down, the boy renewed his attention toward the hologram as he said, "We should focus our marketing efforts toward expanding inside of the Coalition."

 

[Micah tol Powl]

THE PLANET
D R A L L
THE CORELLIA DIGITAL BUILDING

Ah, there it was!

And the best part about it was, the boy had gone willingly to the spot where the Gungan had wanted him to go. "Coalition space is too remote to be an effective market for our hologames," the Gungan remarked readily. The market data proved it. What? Were they going to open a Corellia Digital Store on Oswaft Station? Fringers were not gamers. They needed a more metropolitan audience, with ready access to the HoloNets and credits to spare for entertainment.

And that was not the Outer Rim.

"Perhaps if the Coalition is successful in recent bids toward the Wheel, expansion into the Mid Rim could make the Coalition more attractive," the Gungan countered, gesturing with a shrug as he continued. "Frankly, the only profitable ventures we have there are our military sales of communications equipment to the Coalition and Firemane. And, for that, Voss is the only place we need to be."

Leaning forward, the Gungan shifted back to the offensive. "It also is concerning to me and to your shareholders, whom I represent, that you seem unable to let go of the past," the Gungan stated flatly. "Prime Minister Lasedri was removed from power, and those who committed criminal acts at Roche were tried for their part in those events."

Leaning back in his chair, the Gungan left both hands flat on the table. The table had been dealt. The cards now face up. It was time for someone to call. "Frankly, everyone has moved forward from these events. Except you. And the shareholders are only going to be so patient with that..."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER TEMPLE

When did they become so soulless that the only bottom line that mattered was where the credit stopped?

This had never been about credits. It had been about making Corellia great again. Job creation. Quality of life. The Corellia Digital that the boy had built had represented Corellian values of charity, hard work, and -- above all else -- the priceless value of reputation.

Except this wasn't his Corellia Digital anymore. Expansion had brought with it investors. Shareholders. There was a board of directors now. And lawyers.

Such as the one he was facing now. Coldly regarding the hologram before him, the youngling answered simply, "I will not condone a course of action that will lead us into the Galactic Republic."

 

[Micah tol Powl]

THE PLANET
D R A L L
THE CORELLIA DIGITAL BUILDING

There. He'd admitted it now.

No matter what facts Jon might present, no matter what forecasts the markets might hold, no matter what the intentions of his investors, the company was approaching a place where the Jedi was not willing to go.

And the bit of it all was, it was the Galactic Republic.

The One Sith? Oh, no, the corporate headquarters was in One Sith territory. Sor-Jan's personal residence was in One Sith territory. The Jedi paid taxes to the government installed and supporting the Sith! He had no problem with that.

The Techno Union? No, there again, the Jedi had no problems with expanding business ventures that plausibly put credits into the coffers of Sith lords.

No, it was at the doorstep of the Galactic Republic that the Jedi drew his line in the sand. There had to be some irony for that fact.

"The expansion into Denon was already voted on and approved," the Gungan offered, in a conciliatory tone. Not that he was conceding the point, quite the opposite. He recognized the need for Sor-Jan Xantha. Jon was a pragmatist, not an artist. Sor-Jan had a creativity that enabled him to maximize the profit from combining computer programmers, artists, musicians, and lawyers together. He just needed to get the Jedi to back down and follow the path laid out for him. "If you go this route, you may find yourself facing a vote of no confidence before the board."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER TEMPLE

A vote of no confidence?

It was hard not to take a comment like that personally. Except of course, Jon wasn't a personable person. He was a businessman. That was why Sor-Jan had hired him.

So, now they got to the brass tacks of it all. The investors. The shareholders. The members of the board. The Gungan. Sor-Jan had brought all of them in.

Now, Jon was making it clear that he would take Sor-Jan out if necessary.

The boy's fingers drummed across the top of the table, as he was presented with what seemed a real possibility that his own company might be swept out from under him. And all for what? So they could sell hologames to the Galactic Republic? "Perhaps..."

Perhaps what?

He'd started to say something, but no longer knew what. Or why. Or even what for.

Perhaps what, indeed.

The fingers drummed across the table a second time, as the boy seemed lost in thought. Necessary. Well, whatever was necessary it certainly seemed like Sor-Jan wasn't anymore. And in a company he'd built from out of the shell of a datacard manufacturer. "Perhaps a leave of absence would be best," the boy commented finally.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

THE PLANET
D R A L L
THE CORELLIA DIGITAL BUILDING

The Gungan's eye-stalks rose slightly.

The stakes had been high. He knew that Sor-Jan would either have to get down, or lay down, but one option that the Gungan had not at all anticipated was that the boy might simply step aside. While, in most respects, it paved clear the way for Jon's plan to proceed... it made more complicated how to move forward with the parts on which the board had not yet voted.

"What about the shareholder's meeting?" the Gungan inquired. In part to get a feel for just how long this proposed absence was going to be. And, in part, to try and get Sor-Jan thinking in the alternative.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER TEMPLE

Yes, the shareholder's meeting.

There's a group he'd love to address. While the Gungan bent down and kissed their arse, the Anzat would have rather liked to give them a piece of his mind. "You seem to have the shareholders well in hand," the boy answered in a neutral enough tone. "I'm sure you can handle any and all meetings in my absence."

Particularly since it seemed that Sor-Jan and this Gungan were going to be at odds. The obvious choice was either to oppose the lawyer or follow suit, but two things that Sor-Jan had never been particularly good at were board rooms or following blindly. There was simply too much Corellian in him.

If he was going to pick a fight with a lawyer, the last place he'd pick would be a corporate meeting.

With a wave of his hand, the boy terminated the call without further discussion. Or the usual pleasantries. 'Have a nice day, Jon.' 'Good job, Jon.'

Go kark yourself, Jon.

Go kark yourself with a terentatek spine.

"Bee-Four," the boy said, calling out to the blue accented BB unit that rolled it's way into the youngling's office. Looking down at the orb-like droid, the boy asked simply, "Where's somewhere I haven't been before?"

A wash of holographic light spread over the small Jedi's form, as galactic star charts illuminated the interior of the room, alternating as the droid began cycling through its memory before arriving at the first option matching the query's criteria. Leaning in, the boy looked over the information.

What little of that there was.

The map was mostly blank space. Partial data. Unknown territory.

Wild space. Like when he'd flown with the Levantines on the frontiers. Before the Silver Jedi. Before the Coalition.

Just a ship and the second star on the right, then straight on till morning. And the Force only knew what they would find there. "The Kathol Outback," the boy uttered, reading the name from off the partial chart.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

THE PLANET
D R A L L
THE CORELLIA DIGITAL BUILDING

The hologram cut out suddenly.

The Gungan sat back in his chair, fingers steepled before his snout as he lounged back in his chair and let his mind work through events. The call had gone better than expected, but not as he'd anticipated. He'd expected that Sor-Jan would fall into line when confronted by the prospect of losing the company. Walking away wouldn't have suited what he knew about the Jedi, but a leave of absence was a rather novel middle ground.

But one that left open the road to Denon. With a snap of his fingers and a wave, the Gungan summoned a protocol droid over. "Who is the senator for Denon, now?" Jon asked simply.

"Senator [member="Ayumi Pallopides"], sir"

Good. A name. That was a place to start. "Yousa be contacting dis Senator Pallopides," the Gungan remarked, even as his mind continued to calculate the next step. And the step after that. "I wish to request a meeting..."

No, not a meeting. Too dry. Too common place. When he'd been a sitting senator meetings had been a dime a dozen. He'd need to be more strategic. More memorable than that.

"Make it lunch," the Gungan amended quickly. "Tell her, the former senior senator for Cyrillia wishes to have lunch, at da lady's pleasure of course."

Lunch with a sitting senator. Rather bold off the cuff, but if he played his cards right he might not only get the go-ahead for Denon, but perhaps even an introduction to Secretary [member="Cath Lorr"].

But, that was getting a good bit ahead of himself. Small steps. Small steps...

And so, it begins.